I can barely remember the feeling of looking across my pillow

to see another person, a lover there.

To reach out even before my eyes have opened and feel the bed is warm over there.

There’s an arm and a whole. living. breathing. man, relaxed and sleeping close.

That feeling of opening my eyes as I wake up to look bleary eyed and smile,

because they wanted to be there.

They are there weighing down the other side of my bed.

The weight.

The weight of a man how did that feel?

I cuddle my pillow and roll it over me

to try and remember the sensation.. the weight of a person.

Next to me, to cuddle up and drape an arm and a leg over them..

my head on their chest or draw their face to snuggle against the warmth of me

‘come close, rest on my soft chest’ feeling the weight.

The wait, their weight,

Between my legs, a weight there,

something for thighs to run up against. Or why else do soft thighs even exist?

So I fetch the weighted blanket and get back in the warm bed.

It feels good I realise, I close my eyes,

I know, because I just let out an absentminded sigh.

Even though I just woke up it relaxes me even more to pretend,

to reach out with my mind and my senses.

Something about my inner thighs and drawing them up,

it must be a biological reflex to want to wrap arms around,

to squeeze thighs against something...someone.

I roll back on my side to look at the empty side of the bed.

The light is coming through the curtains and there’s no reason to get up yet,

on a weekend morning. Any morning lately.

So I pull back up the covers over my shoulder

and my arm is around me so I can pretend

I’m being hugged, that I’ve been kissed,

and the lovely thought that someone sweet asked me how I was today,

and asked me out.